


Do your duty

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Jealous Jon Snow, Post-Canon, Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14140419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: "It will be for duty of course," she stated simply as she broke the bread in half over her plate. "But I hear the Dornish are quite ...gifted in the bed chamber."She could have sworn Jon growled, his knuckles white with how hard he gripped his goblet. Beside him, Arya sniggered.





	Do your duty

She stared at the parchment once more, the words blurring before her eyes.

It shouldn't have been a surprise really. The war was over and Daenerys had accepted that she could not have children of her own.

But Sansa doubted that Daenerys had thought it would go according to her plan. For surely she intended Sansa to marry Jon to secure the North to her bloodline once more.

Or perhaps Daenerys still wanted Jon and intended Sansa to marry in order to keep him.

Though she needn't have worried Sansa thought as she bitterly scrunched up the letter and tossed it in the fire. For while the whole world could plainly see that her feelings for Jon were not brotherly at all, it was just as clear that he did see her as a sister.

***

"So," Arya commented lightly from where she was leaning against the door of Sansa's chambers.

 Sansa paused in her sewing, casting a questioning look over her shoulder at her sister. Arya still said nothing, only unfolding her arms and, after looking down the hallway, stepped into Sansa's room and closed the door behind her. Sansa pursed her lips, gently placing her sewing needles in the basket at her feet and folding the dress she had been working on for the feast in her lap.

"What is it?" Sansa prompted when Arya still said nothing as she wandered to the window.

"Have you received many proposals?" her sister asked her as she gazed down into the courtyard.

"A few," Sansa responded, standing and stretching her arms over her head. She wandered over to stand beside Arya, looking down into the courtyard where she can see Jon training the younger men and women with swords. The war against the White Walkers may have been over but Jon was determined to keep the defense of the North as a priority.

"Any that have caught your interest?"

"Why are you suddenly so interested in my marriage offers?" Sansa questioned, casting her sister a puzzled frown. Arya shrugged, her eyes still watching the training below.

"I want you to be happy," she stated simply. She suddenly looked at Sansa then, her lips twitching with the threat of a smile. "Make sure to tell Jon what you are thinking."

"Well of course. He is the King after all. He would have to approve my match." Sansa responded. Arya snorted, shaking her head slightly.

"Dorne," she said, turning to face her sister fully now. 

"Dorne?" Sansa repeated. Arya nodded.

"The Dornish are good lovers I hear."

"Arya!"

Arya smirked, patting Sansa's arm as she moved away from the window and towards the door. Her hand hovered on the handle and she glanced back over her shoulder.

"Tell Jon that you are thinking of a Dornish husband," she insisted. "See what he thinks about it."

Sansa blinked slowly as she watched Arya leave, the soft click of the door echoing around her. She looked out of the window again, watching how Jon gracefully moved across the ground, his hair tied back in a bun and she wanted nothing more than to pull the tie and let her fingers run all through his curls. 

Jon would likely object to her moving to Dorne, she thought. But, she couldn't wait for him forever and well, Dorne was supposed to be nice at least. And Arya was right, they were known for being good lovers. Perhaps she might even learn about this apparent pleasure that ladies could feel with their partners, something that had always seemed a myth to her.

Her King would just have to deal with her decision, she decided.

***

She supposed telling Jon after he had just taken a mouthful of ale was bad timing on her part. But in her defense, she had been so nervous of telling him that she had hardly been looking at him. Instead, she had mumbled her intentions to consider a Dornish suitor towards her plate. It was only the choked splutter that had made her look up in time to see Jon cover his mouth with his hand as the ale dripped down his chin.

"What?" he blurted after his breath returned to her. "A Dornish husband?"

"It will be for duty of course," she stated simply as she broke the bread in half over her plate. "But I hear the Dornish are quite ...gifted in the bed chamber."

She could have sworn Jon growled, his knuckles white with how hard he gripped his goblet. Beside him, Arya sniggered. The sound gave Sansa pause and she glanced over Jon's shoulder to meet her sister's eyes. Arya winked at her, rolling a hand in the air to encourage her to continue.

"I, um, well, I have heard women can experience pleasure too," she declared in a whisper. Jon's knuckles were white, the crease between his eyes deepening as he glared into space. "And I would quite like that, I think."

"Excuse me!" Jon declared suddenly, draining his tankard and slamming it down on the table. He wiped his mouth harshly and stood. Sansa blinked after him, watching as he stormed from the hall without acknowledging any who spoke to him. She turned to Arya with a raised eyebrow but Arya's eyes were on the broth in front of her, the smirk still on her lips.

"What are you up to?" Sansa asked, reaching to grasp Arya's arm and make her sister look at her.

"Jon is likely just jealous," Arya answered with a shrug. 

"Jealous?" Sansa spluttered, looking back to the door as if expecting Jon to burst back through and deny such an accusation. Arya nodded, shrugging again.

"You know, of you having suitors and him having none because of the whole business with the Dragon Queen," her sister replied.

"That doesn't sound like Jon," Sansa replied, narrowing her eyes at Arya.

"No, I suppose not," Arya answered with a sniff. "Guess you will just have to find him and see what is bothering him then."

Sansa gave her sister another quizzical look before she rose from the table and made her way out of the hall. She supposed Jon would be in his chambers and headed quickly up the steps and through the corridors until she came to his door. She knocked gently, listening against the wood.

"Jon?" she questioned, knocking again. 

There was a heavy slide of a bar and then his face appeared in the crack of the door. She felt her cheeks heat at the intensity of his stare and the longer she stood outside the longer she wondered if he was going to slam the door in her face. Although, she had no idea why he would be so angry with her for doing her duty, especially the duty bidden to her by his ex-lover.

But then he moved, the door left open in invitation and she took it, entering his chambers and pushing it gently shut behind her. Her eyes found him at his window, boots off and shirt undone as he cradled another cup of ale in his hand. The glare was still on his face. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"I must do my duty," she stated after the silence stretched on for what felt like hours. Jon grunted, looking down into his cup and grimacing.

"Is Daenerys your Queen now?"

"Is she still yours?"

She regretted the words instantly when he shot her a wounded look, as though she had ripped his heart out herself. It had been cold and unfair, to throw that back in his face when she knew why he had done it.

"You are my King," she said quickly, wanting to diffuse the situation and give him assurance that she trusted him still.

"Am I?" he questioned as he slowly lowered the cup with a dull thud on the table beside him and turned towards her. "So, if I were to demand you not leave," he commented, stalking towards her with such an intense gaze she wanted to shrink back against the wall. "if I told you I wanted you to stay here, what would you do?"

"I, I would stay," she replied. "I would stay with you whether you commanded me to or not."

His gaze shifted then, his eyes softening as he stopped towards her. But she could not keep looking at him, feeling as though he could see her desire there and would turn her away in discuss. Her breath caught in her throat when his fingers ducked under her chin, forcing her to look up again.

"Do you want to marry a Dornish man?" he asked in a hushed whisper, the husky tone making her shiver. She shook her head slowly, wanting to look away in shame as his eyes roamed over her face. But instead of moving away in disgust, he moved his head towards hers until his lips pressed gently against her own.

It was hesitant, barely brushing against her mouth but the mere thought that he would kiss her made her whine and curl her hands around his arms. And something broke inside him then, his hand grasping the back of her head to protect her from the stone wall as pushed forward and moved his lips desperately over her own. Sansa moaned as his other hand settled on her hip, the heat of his touch seeping through her skirts.

He pulled away, making her whimper in protest until his lips pressed a path down her neck, his teeth scraping against her pulse. She shivered, her head tilting back submissively as she succumbed to his attentions.

"I'm not a Dornishman," he murmured against her skin. "But, I daresay I could please you my lady."

"How?" she whispered, the concept so foreign to her but knowing it is Jon, she was not embarrassed to ask.

"By kissing you," he replied, grinning against her skin as though he could see her confused frown. His hand slid from her hip and down her leg, hooking under her knee just as he slid to his own. She blinked down at him as his other hand moved under her skirts, fingers ghosting up her stockings and then her thighs until it the palm rested against her smallclothes. "By kissing you here."

Her eyes widened, a protest ready on her lips as he disappeared under her skirts. Surely that couldn't be pleasant for him, she thought briefly, before his lips pressed against her clothing and she could think no more. Instead, her head fell back against the wall as his fingers hooked into her smallclothes and tugged them down. He shifted slightly, settling her leg more securely over her shoulder before he started.

The first slide of her tongue made her jerk but when he did it again and a third time, the strangeness began to give way to a dull pleasant sensation that she wanted to chase. Her breasts heaved against the bodice of her dress, her fingers stretching out to grip the wall helplessly as he closed his lips around something down there that made her gasp and tremble in pleasure. He sucked gently, wringing a choked sob from her lips and making her hips start to cant rhythmically against his sinful mouth.

Jon groaned against her as she did so, the sound making her cheeks flush as she realised how wanton she was acting. But she couldn't control it as his tongue flicked against the sensitive bud again and again, the pressure increasing slowly and making her bite into her lip with the desperate, very unladylike grunts that were being forced from her throat. 

His finger suddenly pressed against her entrance, not quite entering her but rubbing teasingly. Sansa whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut against the sensation.

"Please," she moaned. "Please Jon!"

A long groan echoed around them as he pushed a finger inside her with surprising ease. A shiver ran through her as he started pumping it slowly in and out as he sucked harder against that bundle of nerves that made her fall into blissful, mindless pleasure. There was a swooping sensation in her belly, her body felt hot as she bucked her hips hard against his lips. The sudden pleasure took her by surprise and she gave a questioning call of his name.

"Its alright," he murmured as he kissed her flesh. "Let it take you Sansa."

"Oh, oh Jon!" she gasped, before she tensed with pleasure, helpless whines bursting from her mouth as he continued to lap at her and pump his finger inside of her.

"I could taste you forever," he mumbled against her skin, his tongue already beginning to lap at her again.

"No," she moaned even as the pleasure started to build again. "Another time maybe you can taste me all night long."

"And what would you like instead?" he asked as he emerged from under her skirts. Sansa choked at the wet plumpness of his lips and she took a moment to reply. 

"Make love to me," she whispered once her wits returned.

Jon smiled softly, rising to stand. He moved his hands, one folding under her knees and the other curling around her shoulders as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Her fingers reached for the laces of her dress, grateful for the fact she had chosen a front-lacing one this morning. Jon's eyes watched her, his pupils dilating as she pulled the sleeves down her shoulders, baring her breasts to his sight.

His own fingers reached to tug at his shirt, pulling it ungraciously over his head and tossing it aside before he moved to tug her slippers off and drop them to the side of the bed. She watched as he unlaced his breeches, her eyes drawn to the movement as he slowly pushed them over his hips to reveal his cock, already hard for her.

He moved above her, his lips pressing softly against her neck once more as his hands reached up to gently stroke under her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat as he cupped them, his thumbs ghosting across her nipples which had already hardened in the cold air.

"Jon please!" she moaned, her fingers clutching his curls to guide him up to her mouth. "I want you."

"One day," he murmured against her lips. "I'm going to spend all evening kissing you everywhere."

She nodded her consent, her eyes fluttering as she felt him begin to push inside of her. She frowned at how easy he slid inside, how painless it was. She knew women could feel pleasure, had heard of it, but she had still assumed for this act to hurt all the same. 

"Gods," he gasped, his hand clutching the furs by his head as he remained still above her. "You feel better than I ever thought possible."

And then he started to move, rocking slowly against her and she thought of how he felt better than she had ever thought possible too. Her hand stroked his back, her tongue darting out to lick her lips as she basked in the pleasant sensation of his cock sliding in and out with a gentle stretch. And when his forehead rested against her own, her eyes opened slowly to look at him, her cheeks flushing at the intensity of which he stared at her face, watching her pleasure form on her features as he moved.

He shifted slightly, his stomach beginning to brush against that sensitive part of her that his tongue and lips had paid so much attention to before. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulder at the sudden pleasure she felt. He grinned down at her, his pace increasing slightly and making him bump against her bud again and again and again.

"I won't command you to stay," he groaned, his hips slamming against hers frantically and she realised he was close too. He nuzzled his face against her neck, his breath hot against her pulse. "But if I have to beg, I will."

She mewled, her legs locking around his waist and her head burying into his shoulder as she fell into her climax. Jon groaned above her, his hand gripping her hip tightly and bucking her up against him as he chased his own end.

And when she felt him spill inside of her, for the first time she felt nothing but pleasure at the thought. No shame or silent prayers that it would not take root. 

He panted against her neck, his cock beginning to soften inside of her. She reached up to stroke his curls once more, the other hand clutching his shoulder to keep him close to her as she turned to press a kiss against his temple.

"You don't need to beg me," she assured him. "I'm already yours."

"No," he whispered, moving to gaze adoringly down at her and cup her cheek. "Not until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she questioned. He grinned.

"Tomorrow at dawn," he replied, brushing his nose with hers. "When I marry you in the Godswood."


End file.
